


Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

by aidennestorm



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen, Groundhog Day AU, Gun Violence, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidennestorm/pseuds/aidennestorm
Summary: “I can’t seem to die."A snapshot of Alexander, stuck in a seemingly endless time loop.





	

“I can’t seem to die."

To his own ears, Alexander’s voice is distant and dreamlike as if through a heavy fog over the Hudson River, but the saddle pistol clutched in his hand is a bright, searing weight too achingly real. 

With his back to Alexander’s approach, Washington says nothing about the interruption but turns around slowly. His movements are stiff, precise. Only his gaze is fluid as he studies the swinging tent flap, Alexander’s face, his pistol at Alexander’s side, with the same determined, reserved scrutiny he displays on the battlefield. "Explain,” he demands.

Alexander laughs and it sounds harsh, hysterical. Apprehension flashes through Washington’s expression, quickly suppressed. "I have,” he protests, and rubs his free hand, now trembling, over his face. “Many times.”

Washington shifts in place. His tone gentles. “We can make this right, you and I."

“We’ve _tried_. We can’t.” Alexander wavers, his body swaying slightly, the panic and fatigue crawling beneath his skin. When his focus sharpens, he thinks first that he truly is dreaming, that he sees Washington change size and shape, then realizes—“Get back!” he screams. The noises outside the tent quiet, and he knows it’s only a matter of time, now, before another officer barges in.

It’s all a matter of time.

His hand shakes as he raises the pistol, aiming it at the expanse of Washington’s chest, closer now after his commander’s unnoticed steps. Washington halts but his soft, beseeching words never cease. “You came here because you trust me. Let me help you.”

Alexander shakes his head, drawing on his last threads of fortitude. _For you sir, anything, anything_ , reverberates through his every thought, but this road has been trod again and again and again and he is _weary,_ and if there’s a chance that this is the path where the cycle breaks … “This has to end, one way or another.”

“I can make it an order.”

“Do you think I care about orders?” he retorts, and Washington’s face clouds with frustration. “No matter what happens, every day…” He trails off, the sob building in his chest. He turns the barrel away from Washington, touching it to his own forehead.

Washington inhales sharply. His expression twists open, helpless, eyes never faltering as he pleads, "Alexander, _no_."

The pistol is cold against his temple. His finger twitches. “I can’t.”

Washington lunges for him, arms grasping, voice frantic. "NO!"

He pulls the trigger.

.

.

The pipes heralding the reveille whistle through the dawn. With a bitter groan of anger, of anguish, Alexander buries his head in his blankets and refuses to open his eyes.

The day will happen, whether he participates or not. It always does. 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I planned on writing a multichapter AU fic with this idea. I might still, anyway, but this scene kept (pardon the pun) looping through my head, and I knew I wanted it to exist somewhere outside my brain. Come share Whamilton feels with me over on [tumblr](http://aidennestorm.tumblr.com/).


End file.
